Truth
by HourglassGluedToTheTable
Summary: "Okay, so we have the whole summer before you go off to your big special school, right? So, we're going to play a game." Uh oh.
1. Chapter 1

"What are you doing out here?"

Freddie stepped out of the sliding door, glancing out at Sam who sat on the ledge. She looked up at Freddie and shrugged.

"Thought I'd let Carly have fun at her goodbye party. I'll be seeing her all tomorrow anyway."

After seemingly dozens of acceptances to practically every college Carly applied to, she finally settled for Boise State University as a broadcast journalism major. However, because of the university's program, she needed to start at the beginning of the summer to start on track.

"How… kind of you."

"You know me, I'm incredibly sweet."

"Right," Freddie laughed. "Oh, I brought you food."

Sam quickly turned toward him, grabbing the plate out of his hand in one fluid motion and began chowing down. Freddie look at her in surprise, then just shook his head, dropping to sit next to her.

"What? Being noble is hunger-inducing."

"Everything is hunger-inducing for you."

"'Tis true, Fredhead. Now, hand over the Peppy Cola."

He handed over the beverage, and watched as Sam gulped it down. He thought it should probably make him more disgusted than it did, but it was Sam he was talking about. She acted like this on a daily basis – if he wasn't used to it by now, then something had to be seriously wrong with him.

"So… uh…" Freddie started, and then trailed off, unsure.

"What are you stuttering about, Freddifer?" Sam asked through mouthfuls of mashed potatoes.

"I was just, uh… wondering…" Freddie cleared his throat. "Are you okay, Sam?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"Well, with Carly leaving and all…"

Sam stopped gnawing on her chicken leg and looked over at Freddie. She slowly put her food down and turned to him. "Okay, you better listen up, because I'm only going to say this once. No, I'm not too thrilled she's leaving. Honestly, I don't know if I'm going to be able to handle it. But, I have to, don't I? And you bringing it up makes it really hard to avoid thinking about it. Got it?"

Freddie nodded. "Good." She sighed, going back to devouring her potatoes.

"Have you been thinking about where you want to go?" Freddie asked, and Sam groaned.

"What, do you have a one-track mind or something? Can't we talk about the weather or some other chiz? I really don't want to be thinking about all that right now, at my best friend's going-away party."

He held up his hands in surrender. "Okay, okay. I get it." He stopped, unsure of what to say next. Sam didn't seem to be planning on breaking the silence, so he cleared his throat.

"So, uhh… nice weather we're having, huh?"

Sam stared at him for a moment. Then, all of a sudden, she burst into laughter, causing Freddie to follow suit. Soon, they were leaning against one another, Freddie's hand somehow ending up resting on her the back of her head, fingering her curls.

Finally, they calmed down. Neither seemed to acknowledge the fact that Sam had her head on Freddie's shoulder, nor that Freddie hadn't moved his hand away from Sam's hair, and was subconsciously running his fingers through it.

Or, at least, they didn't move away.

"Okay, I have an idea," stated Sam.

"Uh oh."

"Shut up." She elbowed him gently, laughing a little. "Okay, so we have the whole summer before you go off to your big special school, right?" She waited to feel the movement of his nod of confirmation, as she still had her head on his shoulder. "So, we're going to play a game."

Freddie shook his head, "Sam, we are not playing Boomba again!"

Laughing, Sam rolled her eyes, "Relax, that's not the game." She explained, mindlessly picking at the fray of his pants pocket. "Okay, so it's called truth. It's like truth or dare but without the dare option. Which, admittedly, makes it seem less fun, but it can still be good. So we just ask each other questions until someone refuses to answer. Then they lose."

Freddie shrugged, "All right, I'll cave. So, do you want to start?"

"No, no," Sam shook her head, "That's the boring way."

"Of course it is." He deadpanned.

"We have to make it more interesting. So, every question has to be written, and every answer has to be given verbally."

"Uh…" Freddie stared at her, "why?"

"Because it's better. You're first."

Groaning, he took out his phone, and Sam lifted her head from him, "All right, fine." He typed something out and hit send. "There you go."

After a moment, Sam's phone buzzed. She took it out and read the message, and snorted. "Come on, Benson, really?"

"What?" He asked, his eyebrows raised.

"_What's your favorite color? _Seriously? I think you were just immediately disqualified."

Freddie groaned, "Ugh, fine. You want something better?" Freddie whipped his phone out again and angrily typed another message. He jabbed the send button and dropped his phone on the table in front of them. "There."

When Sam received the message, she paused, and then shook her head slowly. "I, uh… not yet. I'll answer that later in the game, okay?"

Freddie sighed, running his fingers through his hair. "Yeah, you're right. Sorry."

Sam shrugged, appearing unaffected. "It's cool. One more try."

"Err… okay…" Freddie replied, staring at his phone dumbly.

"Oh, come on. There's got to be a question you've always wanted to ask me. Here's your chance. And I can't get mad and beat you up because then I'll lose. And Mama never loses."

Freddie laughed, shaking his head. "Okay, I got one. " He quickly typed it out, and instead of sending, just handed his phone to Sam.

She looked down, read it, smirked, then looked back at him, her eyes bright. "Yes, Freddie, I really do have a twin."

Freddie shook his head, smirking, "Oh, no. You're going to have to prove it. I need a fully supported answer."

"How am I supposed to-" Sam started, but cut off, looking down at her own phone. "Wait…" She began toying with it for a minute, before holding it up triumphantly. "Aha! Here you go."

He took her phone, staring at a picture of the two girls. He spotted Sam easily, her hair cascaded down her back decked in khaki shorts and sneakers. The one beside her, obviously Melanie, looked similar, yet much more enthusiastic to be taking the picture, as her arms were wrapped around Sam's shoulders while she smiled broadly, adorned in pink.

"Okay, I believe you. So, does that mean I went on a date with…?" He asked, hesitantly.

"Melanie. Obviously."

"Right." He sighed, "Did she ever tell you what, uh, happened on that date?"

"She… might have mentioned it," She replied innocently.

Freddie just shook his head, not willing to relive it. "Okay, well, it's your turn now."

Sam nodded, putting her finger to her chin and tapping it, deep in thought. Suddenly, she sat up straighter, looking around her frantically for a minute. Then, she grabbed a napkin off the table and held her hand out to Freddie, expectantly.

"Err… what?" He asked, unsure.

She responded impatiently. "I need a pen."

"Well, I don't have one."

"Then go get one!"

"Why can't you just text it to me?"

"Because that's predictable and boring. Mama doesn't roll that way."

He rolled his eyes, making a big show of standing up and stretching. "Oh, for the love of nubs, just go."

After a minute of searching the studio, he came back with a pencil. "Here."

Sam nodded to him, taking it and scribbling furiously onto the napkin. "You're welcome." He said, sarcastically.

She just handed him the napkin in response.

"_Do you think Carly is "the one"?_" He read, then suddenly burst out laughing, almost spewing his soda everywhere. "Are you kidding?"

"No, why would I be? You're in love with her and-"

"I'm not in love with Carly."

Sam rolled her eyes, "Oh, give me a break."

"I'm not! Sure, I had a crush on her when I was _fourteen_, but I got over that. It was more like puppy love – I didn't know what real love was at fourteen."

"Oh, and now you do?"

He shrugged, looking at her intently, "I think I have an idea."

Obviously uncomfortable, Sam dropped her gaze. "It's your turn now."

* * *

><p>Once Freddie finally got home that night, after hours of back and forth questions, laughter, teasing, and, surprisingly, no injuries, he lied in bed, flipping through his messages until he came to the one he sent Sam that she refused to answer. He mentally kicked himself for being such an asshole. Why would he even ask that?<p>

_What happened to your dad?_


	2. Chapter 2

_When you try your best but you don't succeed_

_When you get what you want but not what you need_

Freddie smiled, turning off the sink and closing the dishwasher. He followed the source of the noise to his room, finding Sam where he had left her: sitting at his desk. She had pulled up his PearTunes and was singing along with one of the songs, while surfing SplashFace.

_Stuck in reverse_

He watched her for a minute, leaning against the doorframe. Seeing her just sitting there, mindlessly singing along to one of his favorite songs, brought a grin onto his face.

She finally looked up, catching him stare at her. "What?" She asked, narrowing her eyes at him.

"Nothing." He responded, a little too quickly. She looked at him questioningly for a minute longer, then simply shrugged, waving him over. "Check out what Carly posted."

He looked over her shoulder to see a picture of Carly with a number of others, their arms around each other, laughing at something that must have happened right before the picture was taken.

"She looks happy." He commented, placing his hand on the desk to lean against it.

Sam nodded, "Carls told me about this guy," she pointed at the person to the right of Carly, "She's got a major crush on him, apparently. And he's a junior."

"Hm," he acknowledged. He looked like the kind of guy for which Carly would fall. Tall, clean-cut, stylish, dimples. "Hope it works out for her."

She started to scroll through Carly's page, and Freddie cleared his throat. "So, uh… you were singing earlier, right?"

Plainly ignoring him, he tried again, "You sounded good."

Finally, she stopped and looked up at him. "What is up with you? You've heard me sing before."

Shrugging, he stuffed his hands in his pockets. "Only as back up for Carly." After a minute, he spoke again, "You should sing some more."

She laughed, "Why don't _you_ sing?"

"No, no. I'm not a singer."

She glared at him for a minute, then quickly typed something and hit the Enter key. She turned the screen toward him, smirking.

_Sing something._

Chuckling, Freddie shook his head, "That does not-"

"It counts. Sing."

"I'm not very good, Sam." He groaned, dropping down in the chair beside her. She just ignored him, searching a song. Music began to play, and he laughed appreciatively at the song choice.

Sam picked it up first, singing an octave higher than the artist.

_You've got the best of both worlds_

_You're the kind of girl who can take down a man, and lift him back up again_

She nudged him, motioning for him to start. He rolled his eyes, giving in, singing along with the lyrics. Soon, Sam stopped singing, just listening to him. He tried not to feel self-conscious, closing his eyes so he wouldn't see her staring at him.

_Although you were biased, I love your advice_

_Your comebacks, they're quick and probably have to do with your insecurities_

His eyes snapped open when he heard her join in at the second verse, harmonizing with him. He smiled, singing with her, taking note of the lyrics in this situation, hoping she would too. But, he doubted it. She wouldn't notice that kind of thing. The fact was that he was leaving in less than a month, and he couldn't help but think that he wasn't going to get such an opportune moment besides now.

_Oh, what a beautiful mess this is_

Suddenly, the song ended, along with the opportunity. He sighed, looking over at her, waiting for her reaction.

"Not bad, Benson. Not bad at all."

He sat back, smugly.

"Oh, get that smirk off your face, I only said you weren't bad. Hardly a compliment."

"Yes, but from you, it's one of the only compliments you've ever given me, so I think I have a right to gloat."

She rolled her eyes, but he could have sworn he saw a small smile.

"Okay, I have a truth for you then."

She motioned for him to tell her without looking up from the screen. Taking the keyboard, he switched to the window where she had written hers, and added his question underneath.

_Are you jealous of Carly?_

Sitting back, he gauged her reaction. She stared at the question for a good minute, absentmindedly drumming her fingers against the desk.

"I gotta hand it to you, Benson. You've hit the mark."

He wasn't sure what she meant, but he didn't have time to ponder it, because she started talking.

"Carly is my best friend. I'm not bitter that she has a loving family, or that every guy's in love with her, or that she gets _everything_."

Sam looked up at him, "I really don't want to talk about this, Freddie." Her tone of voice, so quiet and hesitant, and the fact that she used his real name, made him just know he needed to shake his head.

"I think you need to talk about this."

She groaned loudly, pulling her legs up to her chest. She studied her knees. "It's just… she really does get everything. I know she's had hardships in her life too, obviously, but for the most part, she's gotten everything she's ever asked for. She has a crazy loving brother, a superstar bedroom, the grades, the looks, the boys, the attention. I don't know. She deserves it – she's a genuine person. She deserves it more than me, surely.

"But did I really deserve to have Jonah try to cheat on me with her, or Pete obviously preferring someone more like her? Stephen went out with me for a day before asking me for Carly's number. Troy flirted with me in English all semester, then turned around and asked her to Spring Fling. Not that I would have gone or anything." She added hurriedly. "But do I deserve to have every guy just use me to get to her? And now she's off in Boise living her dream. She's going to set the world on fire. What do I have?" She cut off, turning to him, "And don't start on one of your college lectures, please."

He shook his head, softly, "I wasn't going to." He turned her chair towards him, putting his hands firmly but gently on her shoes. "Look at me." She hesitated, but finally did, looking up at him through her eyelashes.

"I don't have all the answers. I don't know why Jonah did that to you, or any of those other assholes. But I do know that you didn't deserve it, Sam. You don't deserve any of it. You're genuine, too. Just in a different way. You are incredibly loyal – you stood up for Carly countless times in high school, even when you two were fighting. And I know you probably don't want to hear this, but you stood up for me, too. No one could call me names besides you, and it meant a lot to me.

"I know you do get superficial things you want like ham and fatcakes, but you don't get the things that matter, and for that I'm endlessly sorry, because you should have gotten them. You should have gotten the prom night to remember, instead of just a night on the couch with me watching Girly Cow. You should have gotten a huge 18th birthday party, instead of a quick celebration with a few of us after an iCarly rehearsal.

"Those guys were idiots for using you, Sam. You're per-" He cleared his throat, nervously. "You're really great, and any guy would be lucky to be with you."

Freddie watched Sam, letting his words sink in. After a minute, she nodded, moving her hand to rest on top of his, squeezing it in a silent "thank you". He understood, moving back to give her space, and she turned back to the computer.

"Troy was a vegetarian anyway."

Bursting into laughter, Freddie shook his head, "What a freak."

He caught her small smile again, just before she punched him in the arm.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Someone asked in the last chapter, so I thought I would add it in for you guys: No, in this story, Sam and Freddie never dated. **

* * *

><p><em>When you go off to your big, nerdy, prestigious school, who are you going to miss the most?<em>

Uh oh.

* * *

><p>Freddie heard a knock on his door, but he didn't get up from his PearPad. He knew it was Sam, and he knew she would find her own way in any minute.<p>

"Nub." She greeted, waltzing into his room and dropping on his bed.

"Hey Sam."

"It's your turn to answer."

"Indeed it is."

Sam stared at him, "So? Out with it!"

Freddie sighed, turning his rolling chair to face her. "It's an unfair question. I object."

"Overruled. Come on, Benson. Don't be a wuss."

"How come you get to overrule my objection?"

"Because I made the game."

"I don't think that's a very fair justification-"

"Jesus Christ, Freddie, just answer the question!" Sam nearly shouted, her eyes wild.

"My, my, aren't we testy today?"

"I haven't had lunch."

Freddie nodded, "I'll make you a sandwich."

"Answer the question first."

"Why are you so determined I answer the question?"

"Because the sooner you answer, the sooner we can move on with our lives."

"I'm sorry that my hesitation to answer a very subjective question is holding your life still."

"Yeah, well, your answer and a sandwich will make up for it."

He groaned, "Fine! But I'm tweaking the question." Before Sam could roll her eyes or insult him, Freddie hurriedly explained himself, "How about I say why I will miss certain people, instead of who I'll miss the most?"

Sam stopped mid-insult, thinking for a minute. Finally, she nodded. "Fine. Go."

"Okay, well, I'll miss Spencer, because he's been the only guy I've ever really connected to – being best friends with two girls sucks when there is a Galaxy Wars convention or the Monster Truck Rally is in town-"

"Hey, I went with you to that!"

Freddie smirked, "Oh, yeah, you did huh? Okay, well still, he's always been around when I need to talk to him, so I'll miss that in college.

"I'll miss Gibby too. He's a weird kid, but he's loads of fun. It can never get dull if Gibby's around.

"I'll miss my mom. Because even though she can be overprotective and a hassle and-"

"Completely bonkers-"

"I was going to say she needs to sort out her priorities." Freddie smirked at her. "Anyway, even though she can be all of that, she's still my mom. She's still there for me, in her own way. She cares about me, which is a lot in itself for a parent."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

He looked up, confused, "Nothing… I just-"

"Are you trying to make a _comment _on something?"

Suddenly, it dawned on him. "Oh! No, Sam, I didn't mean-"

"Thanks for the sandwich, Freddie." She cut him off, sarcastically, heading toward the door despite his pleas.

Before she reached the door handle, she whipped back around. "I'm really glad your mom cares. Because I know how it feels when you don't have that, and I wouldn't wish it on anyone."

She slammed the door.

Shit.

* * *

><p><em>From: Frednub<em>

_Sam, I'm sorry. I swear I didn't mean it like that._

_From: Frednub_

_Please talk to me._

_From: Frednub_

_You can't ignore me forever, Sam._

_From: Frednub_

_Your mom does care about you. Why would she have gone through countless counseling sessions if she didn't care?_

_From: Frednub_

_You don't even want to hear the rest of my answer?_

_From: Frednub_

_Well, fine, I'll just text it to you then. Screw the rules._

_I'm going to miss you, Sam. We've had so much fun since we finally made the jump from enemies to friends – then again, I never really thought of you as an enemy. Before, you were just a bully, but now you're my best friend. Yes, more than Carly, and Spencer, and anyone else. You've grown on me, Puckett. I can't even imagine my life without your daily shenanigans. I'd be so… sheltered, and boring without you. I know you'd say I'm sheltered and boring anyway, but I know I'd be even more so if we weren't friends. I'm glad that even though Carly is gone, we can still hang out and have fun without getting in fights. Or at least, until today. I have to admit, I've had a better time with you than I ever have with Carly. Don't tell her – of course I love her too (not that way) – but she's never really had that impact. With you, we can be doing anything, even just sitting on the fire escape, and I can't imagine being anywhere else._

_So, I guess I could have answered your question after all. I'll miss you the most._

_From: The Demon_

_Shut up, nub. I'll be there in 10._


	4. Chapter 4

Three days before he leaves. Did time fly or what?

He was lounging in his room with Sam, packing a few last minute items. His mother made him pack practically everything two weeks early, so he had basically been living out of his suitcases ever since. But now he was beginning to pack the essentials that he would need, and some of the new items his mother had recently bought him. Such as a regular and travel sized first aid kit, ointment, 2 packs of floss, three new toothbrushes. Just the usual for her.

Sam groaned, for the fourth time since she had walked in unannounced a half hour ago. "Come_ on_, Benson! Let's go to the Groovy Smoothie or something. I'm _bored_."

He rolled his eyes, smirked a bit. "My answer still hasn't changed, Puckett."

"But you've been packing that thing since noon! Don't you have enough towels by now?"

"My mom's going to be home at 6, and she will go through my things one by one making sure I have everything." He replied as he counted sunscreens. "I'd rather not go through yet another round of 'Why didn't you pack the extra bottle of shampoo I bought you?' I have to make sure everything's here, or else I'll be dragged to the store to buy all new supplies for the third time just this week." He looked her in the eye, "Five cases of Mister Clean are enough, Sam. I'm not giving her the opportunity to get me a sixth."

Sam was considerably silent as Freddie placed his 4 bottles of sunscreen back in the ziplock and tossed them in his suitcase.

"Mister Clean removes the green; mistakes are few and far between."

Freddie burst into laughter, and soon Sam joined in. "Never tell my mom that," he warned through chortles, "that's one of her habits she's actually toned down!"

Once they calmed down, Sam turned to him. "Okay, I have a question."

"Shoot." He replied, counting his shampoos.

She stuck her hand out, and he rolled her eyes, grabbing her a scrap piece of paper and a pencil. She took them silently and sat up on the bed, quickly writing out her truth. Then, she dropped the pencil on the ground and slid the page to him, lying back down on her back, throwing up a squishy ball.

_Are you scared?_

Freddie read the message, absentmindedly nodding. He looked back up at her, suddenly much closer than she had been. "Y-yeah, I am. I guess I'm mostly afraid that… it won't be any different. Like, just a bigger version of high school. I'm afraid I'll be known as the nerdy tech producer from iCarly. I'm afraid that I won't even be that – that was always a pretty admirable title – I'm afraid I'll just be the nerd."

"Freddie, don't get me wrong, but it's MIT. Everyone's a nerd there."

He breathed a laugh, shaking his head, "You would think that, but I went to registration there, and it's actually not that nerdy. There were guys riding up on motorcycles in leather jackets, or looking like they just walked off a magazine cover. Then there were guys like me, huddled together trying not to get trampled. I just… don't want to fall back to how it was in high school. New state, new rep, you know? But even if it's a new school, I'm still the same guy. That's not going to change."

Sam sighed, sitting up on the bed and looking him in the eye. "You were never a huge nerd in high school. Sure, I picked on you for it, but there were dozens who were worse off than you. You were pretty well liked by everyone; they all thought you were a pretty cool guy. And that's a really big accomplishment. I know you'll do fine in college. You'll make friends, you'll meet girls, you'll study your ass off, you'll go to the occasional party-" She shook her head, "Okay, I don't know about parties, but I know you'll at least have a good time. You're worrying about nothing."

Speechless, he stared at her. "Wow, Sam. Uh, thanks. That… means a lot."

She dropped back on the bed, tossing the ball in the air. "Yeah, yeah, moment of weakness. Don't get used to it."


	5. Chapter 5

"Sit back, relax, and enjoy your flight to Massachusetts."

Freddie sat on the airplane, staring out the window. In just about five hours, he would be landing in Cambridge, getting ready to move into his dorm.

He was excited – new state, new rep, just like he had told Sam.

Sam.

The biggest thing he was dreading about leaving Seattle was not seeing Sam whenever he felt like – and whenever he didn't, for that matter. She was now halfway across the country, and he wouldn't see her until the next holiday he could use as an excuse to fly back.

Would Labor Day be justifiable?

He smiled, thinking of the day before. He hadn't expected much – maybe just dinner with Spencer and Sam – Gibby had already taken off for Hesser College in New Hampshire, going into Psychology. He had always been a weird guy himself, so Freddie thought it was pretty logical he would go into studying other people.

But he was blown away when he walked into Spencer's apartment – not Carly's anymore – and saw a couple dozen of his friends from high school and iCarly jumping out and yelling "surprise". His mother and Spencer ran up to him, the latter hiding a burning spatula behind his back, explaining to him that they had been setting this up for weeks as a going-away party.

The biggest shocker, however, was when Spencer pulled him aside and pointed Sam out, who was stirring something in the kitchen and conversing with Ross, one of his friends from Chemistry. Spencer explained to Freddie that Sam had actually orchestrated the whole thing. She had confronted Spencer a few weeks prior demanding they use his apartment, and got the guest list together, the music, everything. Freddie was absolutely amazed, especially since Sam had been teasing him since Carly's party about how he doesn't have enough friends to ever host something like this.

Later on in the night, after most of the guests had left, he found Sam upstairs, sitting in one of the bean bag chairs.

"Hey," Freddie announced his presence, walking in and dropping down next to Sam. She nodded at him,

"Nub."

"So, that was a pretty cool party."

She didn't respond, instead picking up her blue remote from the web show and tossing it up in the air.

Freddie sighed, deciding to just tell her, "Spencer told me you put it together."

She dropped the remote, and it hit Freddie in the leg. "He's making it up-"

"There were people here who Spencer hasn't even met, Sam. How could he have invited them?"

"Maybe he's a stalker."

"Sam. Come on."

Groaning, she grabbed the remote back from him. "Fine, it was me. But only because Carly bugged me about it at her party and told me you deserved it or something." She mumbled, tossing her remote again.

Freddie ignored her disclaimer, smirking. He leaned in closer to her, "You did something nice for me."

This time the remote hit him on purpose.

"Okay, okay, I get it. I won't bring it up again."

"Good."

"But I just want to say-"

"Bringing it up again." She interrupted him, giving him a look.

"Hear me out, Sam." She stared at him in silence, but he knew it wouldn't last for very long, so he spoke fast. "I just wanted to say thank you. It was a really cool send-off, and I had a great time."

"You're welcome." She muttered, picking at the lace on her shirt. Freddie picked up the remote, twisting it in his hands.

"A lot of memories, huh?" He asked, and Sam nodded.

"I can't believe we broadcasted our last iCarly a few months ago." Sam shrugged," It had always seemed like it would never end."

The nostalgia in the room was too great. He couldn't look at anything without being reminded of some skit they had used it for or an occurrence where Sam had hit him with it. When he looked back over at her, he saw she had written something on the little white board they kept in the studio to write out ideas for the show. She handed it to him.

_Do you wish you could go back? _

"Hm…" He thought. "I guess not. Everything happens for a reason, right? We had to end it eventually. iCarly was a great part of all of our childhoods – we basically recorded ourselves growing up. But, it couldn't last forever. We've moved on, and so have our viewers. But, doesn't mean I don't miss it.

"What about you?"

She shrugged, "Same, I guess. I mean, I'm not really moving on to anything – don't start" She interrupted herself, putting a hand up to him, expecting his routine lecture of 'You could do more', "But we all grew up and grew out of it. I'm just glad we didn't overstay our welcome. It seemed like the fans were understanding and generally disappointed we were going. Which is good. Always leave them wanting more, right?" She gave him a sad smile, erasing the white board with her sleeve and standing up, extending her hand to him.

"Come on, Freddork. We better go face the music. Your mom must be in hysterics just thinking about her little Freddiebear going away."

He rolled his eyes, grumbling, but still took her hand.

"Freddie!" He heard his mother shout, and Sam laughed beside him, bumping shoulders with him lightly and intertwining her fingers with his for a second as they left the room.

He couldn't help but recall just how… right it felt.

She accompanied him to the airport in the morning– he didn't have to ask, nor did she offer. They just both knew it would happen.

He had said his goodbyes the night before to Spencer and his mother. How he convinced his mother not to take him to the airport, he had no idea. But sometime last night between the hugging and crying, he explained to her that it was an early flight, and she had to work, and it was only logical for him to go himself.

They mindlessly chatted as they went through the many lines of the airport. Sam pointed out a few people whom had suitcases larger than their whole person, resulting in poorly contained laughter from the both of them when one of said people nearly fell over due to the weight of their bag. It was easy, it was expected. It was them.

Once they got to the front of the security line, he realized he couldn't bring her any farther. So they stepped out of the line, after checking with the guard to make sure he could jump back in after Sam left, and turned to each other.

"So, I guess this is it." She said, messing with the hem of her top. He came to realize this was one of her nervous habits, and felt comforted knowing she seemed to be dreading this as much as he was.

The goodbye.

He sighed, setting his carry-on down, he lifted his arms halfway in front of him, one eyebrow raised in hope.

Rolling her eyes, but smiling all the same, she stepped into his embrace. One of her hands came between his arm and side and gripped his shoulder, resting her cheek on her fingers, while the other wrapped around his torso. He held her firmly around her lower back, memorizing the feel of her in his arms.

"It's not like I'm never going to see you again." She reassured, albeit still holding him tightly. He wasn't sure if she was saying it for him or herself. She moved her head to bury it in the crook of his neck and shoulder.

"I'll be back soon, I promise." He was hugging her with everything he had, trying to put anything left unsaid into it.

A minute later, "That security guard is looking impatient. You should probably go." She told him, still not letting go.

He chuckled into her ear, and he felt her shiver. "Yeah. Wouldn't want to miss the flight."

She took a deep breath, and took a step back from him, leaving a quick kiss where her head had been, causing the spot to tingle. No tears, just like always, but he couldn't miss the sadness in her eyes. She gave him a small wave, then turned away, walking toward the door without looking back.

As he watched her go, he felt something heavier in his jacket pocket that hadn't been there before. When he pulled it out, he found a miniature bottle of Mr. Clean. Erupting into silent laughter, he shook his head, stuffing the bottle into his pocket again as he lifted his bag onto the conveyor belt.

"_I thought this way your mom wouldn't regret not giving you that sixth bottle. Have fun at MIT, nub. Try not to miss me too much. – Puckett"_

An hour later, and he could still feel her breath on his neck, her body in his arms.

_Just a couple of months_, he thought to himself.

"Ladies and gentleman, welcome to Cambridge."


	6. Chapter 6

_Ding ding_

Freddie groaned, shifting his books to one hand and balanced his coffee on top while trying to fish his phone out of his pocket. Finally succeeding, he lifted the phone to see the message:

_From: The Demon_

_What is the worst grade you've ever gotten on a test?_

His face turned from exasperated to amused as he quickly typed out a reply:

_Good one. I'll call you tonight, okay__?_

* * *

><p>"Nub."<p>

"I got a 75 percent on a History test once."

Sam gasped , dropping down on her bed. "A 75? That's just unacceptable, Fredwardo."

"Yep," Freddie smirked, scribbling away on his notes page, holding the phone in between his ear and shoulder while propping up his statistics book on his desk. "It was in the seventh grade."

"What did your mom say?"

"She never saw it. I burned it, and then retook the test the next morning. Got a 94."

"You're kidding!" She exclaimed.

"Okay, I didn't burn it. But I did shred it. Burning just sounded more rebellious."

Sam laughed, flipping through the magazine on the table beside her. "That sounds more realistic. But, I can't believe you didn't tell your mom."

"I was a wild child."

"Yeah, what happened there?"

"Very funny."

There was an awkward silence, while Freddie tried to decide what to say.

"So… how are you? I haven't talked to you in a couple days."

"I've been better."

"Anything with which I can help?"

Sam snorted. _Everything._

"What can you do, being 3000 miles away?"

Freddie thought for a minute, "Well, I can provide support. I can list off how your life could be worse."

"Like what?"

"Well, for one, you don't have a stats exam tomorrow."

"No, but I do have-" She cut off, silently cursing herself.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"Come on, I know you were about to say something. What do you have?"

"Nothing, nub! Just drop it, alright?"

Freddie rolled his eyes at her tone. "Alright, fine. I gotta go, though. I'll talk to you later." He hung up before she got a chance to respond.

Sam groaned, dropping her phone beside her. She didn't know why he was so pissed off; it wasn't that big of a deal. She reached over to grab her textbook; opening to the page she had stuffed her notes page in, while grumbling to herself about Freddie's freak-out.

Suddenly, her phone beeped next to her.

_From: Frednub_

_What were you going to say?_

Sam stared at the message for a minute, then chuckled lightly.

She clicked "call back", and curled up under her covers.

"Got you." He answered.

"Yeah, yeah, don't think you're so clever."

"But I am."

She sighed, "I was going to say… that I have an exam tomorrow too."

"For what?" He asked, bemusedly.

Groaning, she replied, resignedly. "I've been taking classes at Seattle Central-"

"What?" He exclaimed, sitting up in his chair.

"Yeah, I registered a week or so after you left. I guess your stupid college talks finally got to me."

Freddie spluttered, stumbling over his words. "That's fantastic, Sam! I- I can't believe this!"

"It's not that big of a-"

"It is a big deal, Sam! What are you thinking about going into?"

"Marine Carpentry."

Freddie paused, "Wait, what?"

She just laughed, "Yep."

"Okay, I didn't expect that. What made you pick Marine Carpentry?"

Sam shrugged, "I don't know, really. When I was registering, they told me I had to pick one, and that was the only thing that didn't sound completely suckish. But then I got started, and it was actually not bad. I guess it's just the hands-on thing that got me hooked. We've had a couple of lessons actually out at sea, and it's… better than I expected."

"Wow, Sam. I'm… I'm proud of you."

"Yeah, yeah." She waved it off, although luckily he couldn't see her beaming expression. "I get to use a huge saw, too." Freddie laughed, but she pressed on. "No, it's so cool! And the teacher is a pretty cool guy too – he doesn't pester me like the ones from Ridgeway. He sort of lets me do my own thing."

"Sounds perfect for you." He commented, no hint of sarcasm or mocking in his voice, like when she told Carly. He sounded genuinely interested.

"So, what's going on in the big world of MIT?"

Freddie shrugged, "I'm just focusing on passing this stupid class."

"But, math always came so easy for you at Ridgeway."

"Yeah, it's not that bad. It's just college, you know? Well, I guess you do know, now." Sam rolled her eyes. "Well, anyway, I better go study."

Sam nodded, "Yeah, me too."

"I don't think I'll ever get used to hearing that."

Laughing, she replied, "Yeah, don't expect it. As soon as I get past this first quarter, I'm stepping back. Just gotta make sure my teachers don't kick me out."

Freddie shook his head, "No, you want to prove that you have the potential. I know you, Sam. You have this big talk attitude, but really, you want to do well."

"Whatever, Fredlumps." She replied, then cursed her lame comeback. "Go back to your Stats textbook. I'm sure it's missing you."

"Then, you can go back to your textbook." She started to open her mouth to deny it, but he cut her off. "I can hear the ruffling of your papers, Sam."

She just shook her head. "Bye, nub."

"Goodnight, Princess."


	7. Chapter 7

He nervously rubbed the back of his neck as he approached her door. She wasn't expected him – no one was expecting him – but he just couldn't last any longer at that school without seeing her.

He just hoped she felt the same.

_Knock, knock_

Waiting for her to answer, he became considerably more anxious at every passing moment.

Finally the door opened, revealing a rather exhausted looking Sam, her hair in a messy bun at the top of her head. Her tired eyes lit up, though, when she saw him. Her jaw dropped.

"Freddie!" He grinned without realizing it – her excitement was infectious. She launched herself into his arms, and he stumbled back a bit, not expecting her sudden contact.

She seemed to come to her senses soon after, stepping back rather quickly. "What are you doing back here?"

"I, uhh…" He hadn't really planned as far in advance to explain why he was there. "School break?"

She shook her head, "Your next break isn't for another couple of months, I chec- uh, your mom told me. Try again."

He shrugged, deciding to let her slip-up slide, leaning against her doorframe. "I missed you, okay?"

He studied her reaction, but she just smirked. "Okay."

"My mom doesn't know I'm back, and I'd like to keep it that way." He explained as he began carrying his bag in.

"Woah, woah," She held her hands up, "Who said you could crash here?"

"Sam, you have crashed at my place countless times. Often times, without asking first. I've decided it's my turn to be spontaneous."

She looked at him for a minute, debating with herself. Finally, she just threw her hands up. "Whatever. You get the couch." With that, she walked back into the house, leaving the door open.

He quickly unloaded the rental car, bringing his laptop bag in and shutting the door behind him. He had only been in her house one or two times before, but he knew his general way around. He left his stuff by the couch and wandered into her bedroom, leaning against the doorframe again, just watching her.

She sat on her bed, legs crisscrossed, with piles of papers and textbooks surrounding her. Furiously erasing the paper in front of her, she looked thoroughly stressed.

"Need some help?"

Looking up at him, she thought for a moment. "Hey, that's a good idea. And you couldn't have shown up here at a more opportune moment – I'm doing math."

Walking into the room, he laughed, pushing some of the papers further on the bed, sitting down. "Let me see the book." She practically threw the book into his lap, dropping down on her pillows, yawning. "I've been working on this thing for hours. I have no idea what's going on. What year is it?" She quipped.

He chuckled, scanning the textbook. "Okay, well you're working on logarithms. I can help."

"Ah, my savior." She exclaimed, sitting up again. Freddie scooted closer to her on the bed, so the book was in full view of both of them, and began taking her step by step through some of the problems. He found it a miracle she didn't fall asleep or throw her pencil at him. She really grew up since high school. She seemed to really want to learn this – most likely just to pass the class, but it was still a great improvement.

After an hour or so of Freddie's instruction, she was starting to get it herself. She had done the past five problems without him having to say anything.

"You got it!" He told her, patting her on the shoulder, somewhat awkwardly. Grinning, she finished the last problem and closed the textbook, tossing it on the ground beside her bed. "I'm so done."

"Yeah, no offense, but you look terrible."

"You sure know how to boost a girl's confidence, Fredbag."

"I just mean you look exhausted. And pretty stressed."

"Well, I am." She shrugged, lying back down on her bed. "There's a final practically every week in this stupid class. Aren't finals supposed to be the _final _test? Our teacher doesn't totally grasp that concept. Or the concept of actually teaching the material. Instead he assigns the homework at the beginning of class, and then goes on for an hour about his dog." Freddie cracked a smile, but Sam shook her head, "No, seriously! Last class, he explained to us the new trick his dog just learned. _Sit. _You'd think he just earned a fucking Nobel Prize with the way he was going on about it. Crazy bastard."

Snickering, Freddie collected the leftover papers covering the blanket and placed them on the ground beside the textbook. He started to get up, but suddenly found himself landing awkwardly right beside Sam. Sam released his wrist, resting her head on his chest.

"Sam, what-"

"Sh. Just go to sleep, Freddie."

"I'm not dressed, and neither are you." When she didn't give any sort of response, he tried again, "I'll be right back, okay?"

He heard her groan, then roll off him so he could stand up. He hurried to his suitcase, pulling it into the bathroom beside the living room. He had to make this quick, before she came to her senses and told him to go sleep on the couch. He got dressed and brushed his teeth, debating on putting on cologne for a minute, before giving in and spraying it. He lugged his suitcase back out to the living room, and practically ran back to her room, slowing down just before reaching the door. Looking in, he found her lying on the bed again, except now she was dressed in rolled up sweatpants and a tank top.

She looked like an angel.

"Take a picture, it'll last longer." She called obnoxiously, not looking at him.

Crazy beautiful demon.

He rolled his eyes, shutting off the light and stalking up to the bed, dropping down next to her again in a more comfortable position than before. He was careful not to touch her until she initiated it, but he didn't have to wait long, as she rolled back over and threw her leg over him, resting her head on his chest again and curling her fingers over his t-shirt beside her head. He grinned inwardly, crossing his ankle over hers and wrapping his arms around her, after pulling the blanket up over them.

"Where's your mom?"

"How should I know?" She responded, sluggishly. "She's been gone for a few days. I think she said Vegas this time."

Freddie knew better than to push it. Sam didn't like to talk about her mom.

"Mm, you smell good." She informed him, and he smiled, bringing the hand behind her back up to caress her hair. It felt so natural – lying next to her, their limbs entangled.

Her breathing began to deepen, and he knew she was almost out. He pressed a slow kiss on her forehead.

"Goodnight, sweetheart."

He heard her strangled groan, disgruntled by his pet name, causing him to laugh.

"Sorry, Puckett."


	8. Chapter 8

_Beep Beep_

Sam groaned, throwing her arm out behind her and hitting the alarm beside her bed. She rolled back over, practically on top of Freddie, burying her face in his t-shirt to drown out the sunlight.

"Mm… good morning, Sam."

Shaking her head, she mumbled, "No morning. I despise mornings."

He laughed - a deep chuckle that vibrated against Sam's cheek. "How did you sleep?"

"Better than normal, actually. How about you?"

"Really well." He responded. He knew the only reason he slept so well was because she had been there, but he couldn't exactly tell her that without being punched or mocked.

He was brought out of his thoughts when Sam groaned again. "Shit. I have class."

"Seriously? It's Friday."

"I know. I signed up too late and this was the only day left for the stupid class."

"What is it?"

"History. And I have an exam."

"Wow, no wonder you're stressed."

"No kidding. I better get up." She informed him, not yet moving. After another minute, she grunted, rolling off of him and throwing her legs over the edge of the bed. He turned to watch her as she stretched, her arms over her head, causing the hem of her shirt to rise an inch, an expanse of skin showing. She stood up, moving to her dresser and seemingly at random, throwing articles of clothing onto the bed.

"I'll be in the shower. You can go back to sleep."

"No, no, I'm up. I'll drive you to college, and I'll wander around until your class is done."

She looked over at him, "You don't have to do that. I can just come back here after-"

"No, I want to. I'd rather go out than stay here for a few hours. I'll sit somewhere and study or something."

After a moment of contemplation, she shrugged. "Okay, fine. You can use the shower in my mom's room if you want. I'm not responsible for anything you might find in there."

* * *

><p>Three hours later, Sam set her pencil down, sighing. She felt semi-confident about the exam. Honestly, she had studied pretty damn hard, so she better have done well. She gathered up her stuff and turned in her test, walking out. Turning the corner, she found Freddie sitting on a bench, hunched over his laptop, with two coffees beside him. She smiled.<p>

"Nub." She called, walking up to him. He looked up, smiling at her.

"Hey, Puckett. I got you coffee." She grunted her appreciation, gulping it down. "How was the exam?"

"I totally aced it."

Smirking, he shut down his laptop and stuffed it into his backpack. "That confident, are we?"

"I'm always confident. You just haven't been around for a while."

"Well, I guess I've got to change that, don't I?" He responded, throwing his arm around her.

She rolled her eyes, surprisingly not shrugging him off, "So, what now?"

"Well, I was thinking lunch?"

"Amen."

* * *

><p>"Okay, I've got one."<p>

Sam smiled, sipping her Peppy Cola. "Shoot."

"Do I still have to write-"

"Yes."

Groaning, Freddie pulled out his phone, typing out something and handing it to her.

_Who's your celebrity crush?_

Sam gave him a look, "Seriously?"

"Come on, just answer it!"

Rolling her eyes, she sighed, "Fine. Joseph Gordon-Levitt."

"Ah, I see."

"Or James Marsden."

"Of course."

"Or Orlando Bloom."

"You're such a girl." He teased, then froze, awaiting some form of punishment.

But she just rose her hands in a stage shrug, "Cut me some slack, Orlando Bloom is smokin'. What about you, Frederly? Who makes your heart flutter?"

_You. _"Uh… Keira Knightley."

"Ah, so it's the pirate thing that turns you on?"

"Sam!"

"Oh, relax. Okay, what about Sarah Jessica Parker?"

"Uh, I guess."

"Blake Lively?"

"Sam…"

"Emma Stone?"

"Sam!" He exclaimed, laughing, "I don't know, I haven't really thought about it."

"All right, fine. I have a question then." She leaned over the table, snatching Freddie's phone.

"What? Why do you have to use mine?"

"Because it was right there." She explained without looking up.

"But yours is right… never mind." He resigned, leaning back in his chair.

_Do you want kids, and the whole white picket fence house?_

"Uh…" He responded, laughing, "Yah, I guess I do. I mean, eventually. Maybe like 2 or 3? As for the house… I grew up in an apartment, so I didn't have a lot of the traditional stocking over the fireplace or the big front porch. I would want my kids to have that. They should get a dog, a pool, a backyard. Not a cranky doorman and an elevator. What about you?"

"I… don't know if I want kids."

"How come? I mean, I know you didn't have that great of an upbringing either, so I thought-"

"Well, I don't know, okay?" She interrupted, dropping her chin in her hand and picking at the chip on the table.

"Um… okay… are you all right?"

"I'm fine."

Freddie looked at her in contemplation. After a minute, he reached across the table and gently took her hand. "You're not going to turn into your mom."

Her head snapped up, staring at him. "What?"

"I… I'm sure that must be a concern for you. You always comment about how your mom is unfit to be a mother and isn't there for you. But, I know you wouldn't turn out like her."

Sam sighed, not looking at him but not yet releasing his hand. "I just… I don't know. I'm not cut out to be a mother. I'm never going to be cut out for it. I haven't had the… training."

Suddenly, the waiter arrived, carrying a full tray of food, alarming them enough to let go of each other's hands.

"Club sandwich?"

"Right here." Freddie raised a finger, and the waiter placed the dish in front of him.

"And the ribs, I presume?" When Sam nodded, he put her plate in front of her too.

"I guess the rest is at the wrong table-"

"No, that's mine, too." Sam explained.

The waiter gave her a bemused look. "You mean the stack of pancakes and the onion rings?"

"Yes."

After staring at her for a minute, causing Freddie to snicker behind his hand, he left the other plates cluttered around Sam, and walked away, muttering something about strange diets.

Freddie assumed the conversation would be over after the interruption, but surprisingly, Sam picked it up again, her mouth full of pancake.

"My mom tried… sort of… but it didn't really cut it. She wasn't there when I lost my first tooth, she never taught me how to ride a bike, she didn't pester me about my first-" She cleared her throat. "First kiss…"

Freddie cast his eyes away, nervously picking at his fries.

"She just wasn't around. But… I think if I have kids, I can give them that, at least. Even if I can't help them with their homework or be the best role model… I know I can be there."

Smiling, Freddie took hold of her hand again, just for a moment, squeezing.

She shook her head, taking another mouthful of pancake. "Okay, enough of that. Onion ring?"

He declined, taking a bite of his sandwich. "Fry?"

"Oh, Freduccini, as if your offer is what will convince me to take some. So naïve."

Rolling his eyes, he turned his plate to give her better access, and she stole a handful, while simultaneously gnawing at her ribs.

Twenty minutes later, Freddie's plate - and all three of Sams' - were empty, primarily courtesy of the blonde, and Freddie was extracting a five dollar bill from his wallet for the tip.

"Don't give the dude a five – he totally bagged on my order. It's gotta say in the guidebook somewhere that you're not supposed to judge customers' eating habits." She shouted the last part to their waiter, who stood a few feet away at another table. He glanced back at them, giving Sam a strange look, before shaking his head and turning back to the customer.

Freddie laughed, "Sam, cut him some slack. He's never met you before. If he had, he wouldn't have said anything."

"Yeah, well, it's still rude." She shouted again, this time accompanying her phrase with an obscene gesture, causing Freddie to quickly usher her away from the table.

"Okay, okay, enough. You're going to get us kicked out."

"He deserved it." Sam muttered, scuffing at the floor.

After they paid for their meal, and Freddie finally convinced Sam that the waiter was not worth getting sued for physical violence, the two were back in the car, singing along, quite loudly, to "Man in the Mirror."

_I'm asking him to change his ways._

_And no message could have been any clearer._

They pulled into Sam's driveway, just as the song came to an end.

"Musical genius."

"Indeed, he was."

"Too bad about the weird race-change thing."

Laughing, Freddie nodded. "And the child molester thing."

"That was never proven."

"Okay," he chuckled, "let's just go inside."

As they walk into the house, Freddie asks, "So, do you want to watch a movie or something?"

"Sure, I'm going to change into something more comfortable. You can pick, but don't click play because if it's something lame I get veto."

Rolling his eyes, he nodded, "Okay, okay."

"Choose wisely." She called over her shoulder as she closed the bathroom door.

Freddie picked up the remote, flipping through the movie selection until he came to one of his personal favorites, which he knew Sam would appreciate. He stood beside the bed awkwardly for five minutes, unsure of where to go.

Finally, she opened the door, and looked up at the screen.

"Scream 4. Nice choice, nub. Hit play." She climbed onto the bed, getting situated as the beginning music started playing. She looked over at him expectantly.

"Are you just going to stand there all night?"

He sighed. He was trying to give her the benefit of the doubt, but she just kept calling him back. He thought maybe she was just mentally unstable from all of the math she had done, like she would have been in high school, but now she's had a good 10 hour break and she continues to touch him willingly and he just didn't get it. He knew they were friends, but did friends travel 3000 miles just to spend a few days together? Did friends sleep in the same bed willingly, and cuddle throughout the night?

Oh well, he thought, as he climbed onto the bed beside her. If he's going to do this, he's gotta go big or go home. Sam taught him that, and now he could put it to good use. He lifted his arm, slowing placing it around her shoulders, gauging her reaction out of the corner of his eye. He watched as she rolled her eyes, reaching around and gently prying his arm off of her, snorting.

"Nice try." She commented, her eyes not leaving the screen.

He groaned inwardly, resting his head back on the headboard. He honestly didn't know what she wanted, and it bothered him. He knew Sam could be furiously ambiguous about her intentions, but he had thought they were heading somewhere, until suddenly she threw him for a loop. She dished out as many mixed signals as his mom dished out tick baths.

Snapping out of his thoughts, he looked down to see Sam cuddling onto the space just below his collarbone, her eyes still not leaving the movie. His eyebrow raised, and he slowly lifted his arm again to place around her. When she didn't throw it off, he sighed in relief.

Crazy indecisive demon.

They stayed still like that throughout the first 20 minutes of the movie, only Freddie's hand moving, seemingly of its own accord, tracing light circles on her back. After a few minutes, she sat up.

"We need snacks."

Thrown off guard by her sudden movement, he shook his head a little. "Uh, what?"

"Snacks. Go."

"What am I supposed to get?"

"Anything. Everything."

He grunted, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and standing up. "Fine, I'll be back."

Smiling, she sat back against the pillows. For the most part, she just called him out of the room to give herself a minute to think. He was being so gentle and sweet and unbelievably sexy and she wanted to do a double fist dance on her own face for having such thoughts. She didn't know what she wanted, but she knew he could completely brainwash her with those stupid fingers of his and the luring smell of his stupid cologne and she couldn't stand it. She didn't feel in control around him, which was why she felt the need to pry his arm off of her. She wasn't ready to allow him to make the moves – wasn't ready to submit herself to him.

Wrenched out of her thoughts, Freddie stumbled through the doorway less-than-gracefully, carrying a mountain of bags, boxes, and bottles.

He dumped the load onto the bed and scrambled back beside her, holding out his arms to the food.

"Ta da."

Grinning, she began to rifle through the options. "Nice variety, Fredamame." She complimented as she tore open a fatcake.

He smirked as he stuck his hand into the bag of chocolate chips. "I learn from the best."

"Hell yeah you do."


	9. Chapter 9

Freddie woke up to darkness outside and movement on the bed. The last thing he could remember was tossing marshmallows into Sam's mouth, and him trying unsuccessfully to catch whatever Sam chucked at him, both of them not even pretending to watch the movie anymore. They must have fallen asleep.

Well, one of them, he thought as he watched Sam kneeling beside him, bouncing on the bed.

"Sam?" He asks groggily, rubbing his eyes.

"Freddieee!" She squeals, bouncing closer to him. "You're up!"

"Yeah, your eccentric bouncing might have had something to do with it."

"Let's gooo!" She shouted, now practically bouncing on top of him, albeit lighter than before.

"Woah, calm down! Did you have coffee?"

"Maybe…"

Sam's coffee tended to be extra strong, black coffee. Upon comment, she explained, 'If you're not going to drink it black, might as well drink hot chocolate, wimp.'

"I can see. Okay, sit still for a minute." He gently pushed her off of him and say up, running his fingers through his crazy bedhead hair.

"Let's goo!" She exclaimed again.

"Where?"

"I'm hungry. We never had dinner."

"What time is it?"

"8."

Freddie nodded, running a hand down his face. "Okay, let's go."

Giggling, Sam shook her head. "Wait," she reached up and fluffed his hair, his face portraying a sour expression. "You're hair looks like a hurricane."

Chuckling, his yes fluttered closed again as he waited for Sam to fix his hair. Finally, she sat back on her heels, grinning.

"Perfect. Up now." She hopped up, scrambling around the bed to the doorway. Upon seeing him still sitting on the bed, she huffed, running back over to him and tugging on his arm. "Come on, Fredweird! Foooood."

Finally, Sam succeeded in dragging him from the bedroom to the car, and he woke up enough in the process to turn on the engine and begin to drive.

"Where are we going?" He asked, turning the radio down.

"Pini's."

Groaning, Freddie shook his head. "That place is expensive, Puckett."

"So?"

"We are also not dressed to go to Pini's."

"That's not a problem."

He sighed, turning back to the road. "Fine."

Smiling, Sam leaned back in her seat. "Thanks, Fredwich. Now, onward! Lasagna awaits!"

* * *

><p>Sam stood on her toes, trying to look over the enormous crowd, seemingly searching for something.<p>

"Come on, Sam, there are way too many people here. We'll never get a- woah!" He cut off when Sam grabbed his arm, pulling him to the waiter's stand.

"Javier?"

"There are no more- Samantha! How wonderful to see you!"

"You too. So, my usual table?"

Nervously fidgeting with the menus in his hand, Javier replied. "I'm afraid there are no open tables, Samantha."

Freddie shrugged, ready to turn away, but Sam grabbed his arm from behind. He watched discontentedly as she stepped up to the waiter, lifting a hand to run down his arm. "Really, Javier? Not even for me?"

Thoroughly flustered, he blushed, "Well…" He eyes Freddie warily. "Who's that?"

"Oh, no one. Just a friend."

Freddie felt like he had been punched in the gut. Seriously, just a friend? After everything they had been through together?

"Oh, well, in that case…" Javier stood straighter, holding out his arm. "Right this way, m'lady."

Sam, expertly avoiding his arm, began walking into the dining area. When she noticed Freddie was not following, she turned back, rolling her eyes and grabbing his wrist again. "Come on!"

"Will this table be sufficient, mademoiselle?"

"Yes, this will do fine, thank you Javier."

"It's a pleasure." He snuck a once over at her when she turned her attention away, sitting down, and Freddie's hand formed a fist.

"Okay, do we even really need menus? Who actually needs a menu here? Don't they only sell lasagna? What would even be the point of selling anything else, with the pure quality of their las-"

"So, who was that?" Freddie asked, attempting to appear calm. Sam flicked her wrist at him, carelessly.

"Oh, Javier? He's had a crush on me for years, he's harmless. I started coming here once a month for a while, and he always just 'happened' to be my waiter. "

"Do you bring guys with you a lot?"

Raising her eyebrow, she shrugged. "Uh, no, not in… ever, actually."

They sat in uncomfortable silence until Javier appeared again to take their drink orders.

"Samantha, what would you like to drink?"

"I'll have a Scotch."

Despite his sour mood, Freddie couldn't help but laugh at Sam's completely straight face. However, Javier didn't seem to see the humor.

"Uh… but Samantha, I can't get you – I can't – you're-"

"Dude, it's a joke." Freddie cut in, exasperatedly. Sam grinned, looking back up at Javier for his answer. He simply narrowed his eyes.

"Well then, I guess I will come back when you're finished with your little games."

As soon as he left, Sam burst into laughter.

"Wow, I've never seen you snap like that before! He sure wasn't happy."

When Freddie simply nodded, continuing to stare at his menu, Sam sighed.

"Okay, what's up with you?"

"Hm?"

"Don't 'hm' me. Something's got your knickers in a twist, and I would rather you put it out there now so we can get over it and have a good time, like we have been doing. Because, surprisingly, hanging out with you has not sucked."

Freddie sighed, shaking his head. There was no reason to ruin the weekend just because of one little comment Sam made about him. Sure, she just thinks of him as a friend. He should have expected that. It doesn't mean they can't still have a good time.

Besides, Sam doesn't seem to treat her 'friends' the same way someone else would. Or at least, he hoped not, considering how many times he's been in her bed.

"Nothing, I'm sorry. Everything's fine."

Sam looked at him skeptically, then just shook her head, muttering something about lies. The waiter came back – a different waiter, to their amusement – and took their food and drink orders.

The atmosphere was still rather tense while they waited for their food, so Freddie took the opportunity to pull out his phone and type a question. He slid the phone across the table, silently.

Sam picked up the phone and read the message, then smirked.

"Pet peeves? People."

Laughing, Freddie shook his head. "Come on, I already knew that. Elaborate."

"Umm… Hallmark companies, bald people – you can't trust them – mail carriers-"

"That's just a list of things you don't like."

"Isn't that what pet peeves are?"

"No, pet peeves are like things that bug you, things that make you tick."

"I'm not seeing the difference."

"Okay, well… my pet peeves are when you guys didn't omit the one in the countdown for iCarly, when people drive under ten miles of the speed limit, basically everything my mom does…"

"So like, my coffee thing?"

"Yeah, I'd say that's one."

Sam contemplated for a minute, "I think the mailmen thing is one too. Just everything they do bugs me."

Smiling, Freddie nodded, and Sam continued. "Oh, okay, how about when people where socks with sandals?"

"I used to do that." He muttered, and Sam burst into laughter.

"Right! That must have been where that pet peeve came from! Ooh, and people who just eat the cream out of an Oreo. And banjos. And those people over there."

"And Javier." He muttered again, and she rolled her eyes, ignoring him.

"Backseat drivers."

"How ironic, considering you are one. Horror movies with no plot, just gore."

"You're crazy, those are the best ones." She replied, shaking her head. "I mean hello, Saw? Okay, people whose favorite movie is The Notebook. Or Titanic. Or Mean Girls. God, that movie is overplayed."

"I definitely agree there. Losing your chapstick."

"Stripes."

"Again, that's just a thing you hate. A pet peeve would be when people wear stripes. When a pen runs out of ink in the middle of writing."

"Same diff. Strawberry ice cream."

Erupting into laughter, Freddie shook his head. "Foods you dislike are not considered pet peeves either."

"Strawberry ice cream is disgusting enough to be a pet peeve. Fine, people who like strawberry ice cream." She corrected, mockingly.

They continued like this, stating pet peeves back and forth, getting more ridiculous as it went along, causing the other to burst into uncontrollable laughter every couple of minutes. Finally, their food arrived, after at least a half hour wait.

"Took you long enough." Sam grunted as the waiter placed their dishes in front of them.

"Sam." He scolded

"I was just making a comment-"

Once the waiter put her plate in front of her, however, she stopped talking in the middle of her sentence, staring amazingly at the lasagna.

The waiter left, and Sam continued to stare.

"So are you going to eat that or should I have just bought you a photograph?"

Shooting him a glare, she replied, "Pini's lasagna is not just for eating. The dishes are a masterpiece in itself. You must admire every aspect. Including the appearance, and the smell. Then, and only then, can you taste."

Freddie nodded absentmindedly, having already taken a bite out of his. He watched as Sam took a big whiff of the lasagna, her eyes closed, nodding luxuriously. Finally, she lifted her fork, and dove in.

Crazy adorable demon.

They enjoyed their lasagnas in relative silence, occasionally exchanging comments on people from other tables, resulting in hushed snickers.

"Why is there lasagna so good?" Sam asked with a moan, her fork clattering on her empty plate.

"Beats me," Freddie replied, his own plate nearly empty as well, mostly because Sam took it upon herself to steal as many forkfuls as she could when she thought he wasn't looking. "Must have something to do with the cheese."

"Mm… delicious cottage cheese."

"I'm pretty sure they don't use cottage cheese. Tastes more like ricotta."

"Uh, no. I know my cheese. This here is cottage."

"And _I _took a cooking class senior year. We made lasagna more than once, and we never used c_ottage_."

"Oh, so that makes you the keeper of cheeses? Don't test me, nub." She warned him, her voice rising.

"Wanna bet?"

"Bring it. When I win, I get to pick where you take me next. And it _will_ be the bacon emporium, and you're _not _allowed to complain when it's on the other side of town."

Freddie rolled his eyes. "Fine, whatever. I'm going to win though. And then we're going to-"

"Waiter!" Sam interrupted him, calling out loudly, despite the other customers' complaints. Their waiter rushed over quickly, apologizing to the tables around them on his way.

"What?" He demanded in a hushed tone, his expression wild.

Freddie apologized, calmly. "Sorry, sir, we just had an inquiry regarding-"

"What cheese do you guys use in this thing?" Sam interrupted yet again, earning a dirty look from Freddie.

"We use parmesan and ricotta."

"HA!" Freddie exclaimed, causing the tables around them to shush them again. "I win."

Looking confused, the waiter asked, "Is that all you needed to-"

"Just shut up." Groaning, Sam dropped back in her seat, her arms crossed.

The waiter stomped away from their table in a huff as Freddie continued to sit up, his smug grin widening.

"So, Puckett. It seems someone else gets a turn in choosing the destination this evening."

* * *

><p>"It's funny how even though I won the bet, you are still deciding where we go."<p>

Sam shook her head, "Hush. I'm deciding for you – you'll like it. You would just never think of it."

"Is this going to be illegal?"

Sam didn't answer, and Freddie rolled his eyes. Honestly, he would much rather just go back to Sam's place, but he couldn't deny that he was curious where she was leading him.

"Okay, take the exit here." Freddie followed her instructions, exiting the I-5 at the Seattle Center exit, still woefully in the dark about where they were going. It was 10:00 P.M, what was open at this time?

"Do you even know where we're going?"

"Of course I do, nub. Just a mile or two more. Take a left here."

After five more minutes of Sam's turn by turn directions, they pulled up in front of a large building. "Experience Music Project? What's this?"

"It's a museum that displays aspects of pop culture."

Freddie nodded vaguely, not seeing why she would think he would want to come here.

"It also has an entire science fiction section."

His face lit up, and Sam couldn't help but laugh. "Seriously?"

"So, was this a good choice?"

"Fantastic choice." He grinned, pulling into a parking space. "But…" hesitating, he turned to her, "What's in it for you?"

"There are some pretty cool music displays. They have a whole new Nirvana tribute. And an exhibit for horror films."

"Alright then- wait. It's 10 PM."

She stared at him blankly, and he sighed. "This place has got to be closed, Sam."

"Haven't you learned by now, Fredwina?" she asked, starting to climb out of the car.

Grimacing at the nickname, he shrugged.

She leaned in close, "The rules don't apply to me."

And suddenly she was gone, the car door slamming behind her.

Crazy strategic demon.

He jumped out after her, running to keep up as she waltzed over to the door, knocking.

He finally reached her as a boy, looking a few years older than them, poked his head out, anxiously. Upon seeing Sam, he jumped, his glasses falling on the ground, and the door started to close on his head.

Sam rolled her eyes, pulling the door open away from his bobbing head.

"Sam! What are you doing here?"

"Decided to take up my favor now. We might be here for a while – Fredlord over here wants to check out the Sci-Fi Hall."

"But Sam, you can't-"

"Hey, you owe me, remember?" She stepped up to him, and Freddie couldn't help but feel a bit giddy that he wasn't the one she intimidated anymore. The boy looked over her shoulder nervously at Freddie and he shrugged, letting him know he was on his own.

After looking around frantically a few times, the boy sighed. "Fine. But everything's turned off, so you're just going to have to look. Don't touch." He directed his last statement at Freddie, who looked at him, unperturbed.

"Get lost." Sam told him, and the boy ran off down the hall.

"What was _that _about?"

"Oh, I scored that nerd a date with Carly a couple years back – he owes me now."

Freddie choked out a laugh, "Seriously? Carly dated him?"

"Oh, God no. He did get to follow her around and carry her bags while she shopped though. The best day of his poor, pathetic life."

"How do you have so many connections?" Freddie asked as they walked.

"You never know when you're going to need them. I take up any chance I can get. Okay, so this is it. They've added a few more exhibits since I last came here. Let's check out that Nirvana thing, then after I'm done we'll go to your dorky Sci-Fi whats-it."

"Sounds good to me." He replied, a bit of a bounce in his step.

Rolling her eyes at his excitement, she pushed open a door with a large sign above reading "Nirvana".

"So what got you into this band?"

"Is that a question?"

"Uh, yeah?" At Sam's pointed look, Freddie rolled his eyes, "Oh, come on. I already verbally asked it."

"Not paying attention unless you follow the rules." She told him in a sing-song voice.

"How come the rules only don't apply to you?" Freddie grumbled as he pulled out his phone.

"Because I'm Sam Puckett."

Grunting in reply, he handed her his phone, his question typed out.

"When Mel and I were little, my mom used to play Nirvana to get us to go to sleep." Upon Freddie's reaction, Sam laughed. "Hey, it may not be conventional, but it worked. I grew up on this stuff. Anytime anything suckish happened I would revert back to these guys, blasting it in my room." While she explained, they walked through the exhibit, her eyes gazing at the memorabilia and instruments in glass cases on the wall, like a true fan.

They stopped in front of a stand with photographs from live concerts, and a giant button in the center. Sam lifted her hand to press it, but Freddie caught her elbow.

"The guy said not to touch anything." He warned her, "Everything's off."

"I highly doubt they would just turn the exhibit off. Anyway, I think you keep forgetting my motto here."

With that, she pressed the button, and music began playing through the speakers.

Sam's face spread into a grin, "This is one of their last songs. I wonder if they have my favorite."

"What's your fav- ow!"

Sam started to dance, jumping up and down and throwing her hands in the air. Quickly, however, she grew tired of moving by herself and yanked on Freddie's arm to encourage him to jump with her. He shook his head, side-stepping out of her reach. She continued to dance, and Freddie stood back, watching in amusement as she flapped her arms around.

"I thought you took dance classes."

She merely shot a glare at him, continuing her flapping until the song ended. As soon as the music stopped playing, she raced to the next button, pressing it in anticipation. This became a pattern, until a few buttons later, when her smile grew wider, as 'Stay Away' started to play. "This is it! My favorite!"

Then she started to dance again.

"Come on, Fredula! Dance with me!"

At those words, and her impossibly crazy movements, he couldn't help but take her outstretched hands and spin her around. They began to practically gallop across the room in a ballroom stance, Freddie spinning her this way and that, resulting in Sam's laughter.

By the time the song was over, Sam was pressed against Freddie, her face buried in his shirt, rocking back and forth to the music.

"I really like that song." She announced as she pulled away from him, a hint of a blush on her cheeks.

Freddie laughed softly, "I can tell." Then, he waited, gauging her expression.

"So… ready for the Sci-Fi section?" Freddie asked, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet. Sam had to laugh at his excitement.

"My feet hurt, I don't want to stand anymore. Why don't I sit here until you're done, then you can come get me when it's time to go home?"

His face fell, and Sam's stomach twisted.

"I- I guess… but I kind of wanted to show - never mind. It's fine. I'll be back."

As she watched him go, his shoulders sagged a bit in disappointment; she let out a loud groan. Stupid nub, making her feel guilty.

"Ugh, fine, I'll go! You have to carry me, though."

He grinned again, and Sam rolled her eyes, smirking.

"Okay! Hop on." He bent down a bit and she jumped, her arms wrapping around his neck loosely.

"Giddy up!" She shouted, kicking him softly with the heel of her foot, and he laughed, breaking into a run. She held onto him tighter, laughing in his ear.

Finally, they reached it – The Science Fiction Hall of Fame. He stood there in awe for a moment, staring at the words, until Sam said in his ear – quite loudly – to get on with it, rousing him to throw the doors open, while simultaneously letting Sam off of his back.

Contrary to some other girls, Sam did not find Freddie's nerdiness attractive. Not at all – he was just a nerd. However, she did find herself staring at him from the corner of the room as he looked up into the expanse hall, his eyes gleaming with excitement. His enjoyment was infectious, and she couldn't help but admit to herself that she_ did_, in fact, find his happiness attractive. When he grinned at her, pointing out his favorite director or the collectors' sword they used in some movie, it did something to her. He would ramble on about whatever it is he finds and she would get caught up in his hand gestures, or the way he licks his lips after taking a giant breath.

It was vaguely mesmerizing.

After hours spent scouring the halls, looking for new exhibits to become entranced in, they ended up lying next to each other on the floor, staring up at a technologically-copied model of Seattle at night. At around 2 AM, Freddie finally checked his watch, incredibly surprised by how quickly time flew. But they were both tired, and it was a good half hour drive back to Sam's house, so they decided it was time to say goodbye to EMP.

* * *

><p>"Thanks for taking me there. It was a lot of fun."<p>

"Mm…" she mumbled, closing her eyes against his shoulder.

"Now maybe you picked up some information about MMORPGs or the planets of Galaxy Wars?"

"Hmm… yeah. Nug nug. Swords. Plastic heads."

Freddie laughed, wrapping his free arm that was not holding the wheel around her to keep her from slipping off of his shoulder. "Close enough."

Once they reached the apartment, Freddie had to practically carry Sam to her bedroom. They both fell asleep before they got dressed, collapsed in a heap on the bed – the back of Freddie's hand pressed against Sam's cheek, and her foot on his stomach. They were a tangle of limbs, and yet it was oddly comfortable.


	10. Chapter 10

The sun peered through the window, causing Sam to stir. Rolling over, she felt beside her, coming up…empty.

Lifting her head bemusedly, she looked around the room. Suddenly, the aroma of bacon wafted into her. _Mm, so that's where he went._

She stood up, stretching for a minute before throwing on a sweater and stumbling into the kitchen.

Laughing at her less – than – graceful entrance, Freddie smiled. "Good morning, sunshine."

She looked up, grunting in reply. "You made breakfast?"

Nodding, he held up a plate to her. "Got your feast right here. I made coffee too. The way you like it, although I have no idea how you drink it like that."

Sam shrugged, opening the cupboard and pulling out a mug. "It's what keeps me so perky."

"Right," he rolled his eyes. "Perky."

Dropping down at a counter stool, she began digging into her eggs. "Mm, did you add something to these? Really good." She told him, her mouth full.

"I guess you don't pay as much attention to your breakfast as you do the lasagna." He smirked, "It's mixed with bell peppers and salsa."

"Well, aren't you going to eat?" She asked when he turned around, leaning against the stove.

"Already did. I got up an hour ago – do you always sleep this late?"

"Uh, duh. I don't see the purpose in getting up any earlier than 11."

"Early morning jogs. Beating traffic. Breakfast."

"I don't jog. Classes start at 2 for me, except on Fridays. And breakfast can wait until I feel like getting up."

"Alright, alright." He replied, holding his hands up. "Not planning to fight you on this. If you want to waste your day, then go right ahead."

"Thank you." She took a big forkful of her eggs, smiling cheekily at him.

The rest of the afternoon was spent watching movies, eating through her cabinets, bantering, and quite a bit of cuddling, although neither of them would ever have termed it that way. By nighttime, they were just about out of ideas, eventually finding entertainment in sitting on her kitchen counter and swinging their legs, attempting to kick each other from across the tile.

After about five minutes of silent boredom, Freddie searched around him, grabbing a piece of paper and a pencil.

He handed it to her and she read his message. _If you could meet anyone, living or dead, who would you meet? _

"That's easy: Rob Zombie. His movies are iconic. You?"

"I think I'd want to meet Bill Gates. Computer whiz and all of that. It would be interesting to talk to him."

Sam nodded, and he watched as she picked the paper up from the counter, flipping it over and reading it before rolling her eyes.

"What was the paper anyway?'

"What? Nothing." Sam replied, tucking the piece of paper into the drawer behind her.

"No, you just hid it. It's got to be something."

"It's just this invite. I guess I forgot to throw it out."

"Invite to what?"

Groaning, Sam pulled it out of the drawer and tossed it to him.

"Just a party that this girl in my math class is throwing. She talks too much, I don't really like her. Or anyone in that class."

"It's for tonight."

"So?"

"Well, we were just saying how there's nothing to do tonight. We watched all the movies, ate basically everything in your house-"

"We're not going."

"Why not? It says here it's an open invite – you can bring anyone you want."

"I don't like anyone at my school. I try to spend as little time with them as possible."

Freddie rolled his eyes, "Well, let's just go for something to do then. I'll be there, you won't have to socialize with anyone. That is, assuming you'd rather socialize with me than the people at your college."

"That's not an assumption, that's a fact." Freddie grinned, causing Sam to roll her eyes next. "Don't let that go to your head. I just really don't like them. They ask stupid questions."

Laughing, Freddie leaned back on the island counter, resting on his elbows. "I bet there will be food."

She stared at him for a minute, seemingly weighing the pros and cons in her head. Finally, she threw her hands up in exasperation.

"Fine! But if anyone tries to talk to me I'm using you as a human shield. Too bad you're constantly polite. They'll think I've gone soft, hanging out with you."

"Well you kind of have…"

She shot him a glare. "You want to go to this party? Otherwise I'll prove to you that Mama's not going soft."

He raised his hands in surrender, looking over the invitation again. "Oh, it's semi-formal attire."

"And that means…?"

"It means you're supposed to wear a dress. We don't have to go if you-"

"I own dresses, nub. I've changed at least that much since high school. You didn't notice my heel collection by the door?"

She seemed to be contemplating for a minute, before turning to him again. "Did you bring anything '_semiformal_'?" She mocked.

"I have quite a few button downs and nice jeans that should work fine. Okay, well the party starts at 8 and it's-" He checked his watch, "7:30. We should go get ready."

Grumbling about having to get dressed, Sam dragged herself to her room, calling behind her that he can use her mom's shower again. He groaned, remembering the last time in which one of her mother's bras fell on him in the middle of getting dressed. He didn't even know where it came from, but he did know that it was entirely too squishy. It had to have been triple padded or something – there was hardly any cup.

Shivering at the memory, he shook his head, heading to take a shower.

* * *

><p>"Freducation, hurry up. I'm hungry, and the food there's not going to eat itself."<p>

Freddie rolled his eyes. _Of course she was ready after only twenty minutes_, he thought as he pulled out his deodorant. He doubted she even put on a dress – probably just jeans. He wasn't about to fight her on it though. He was just excited that she wasn't disgusted at the idea of bringing him to her college party. He would get to walk around with her, save her from confrontation with her peers, essentially being her _date_ to this thing.

Groaning pointedly, she called, "Why does it take you so long to get ready? I swear, you become more and more of a girl every-"

She cut off as he opened the door, his jacket over his shoulder, a wave of cologne following him out of the steamy bathroom.

They both stared at each other, not saying a word. Sam, completely caught off guard by the way Freddie's arms practically tore through the button down shirt he wore, stretching across his abs – since when did _those _happen? – his cologne floating toward her making her nearly dizzy with lust.

He looked fucking hot.

Freddie stared unabashedly at Sam, his jaw falling open. She was wearing this tight red dress that made it barely halfway down her thighs, _barely, _and her hair curled in ringlets around her face. To top it all off, she had on these spiky heels he didn't know the name of but _man, _did they do wonders for her legs.

She looked fucking sexy.

They both seemed to snap out of their daze around the same time, clearing their throats. Freddie took his jacket off of his shoulder and held it conveniently in front of him, while Sam absently tugged on one of her curls, reaching down to grab her bag.

"Err… so are you ready?" He asked, nervously.

"I've been ready for the past ten minutes. You were the one who just recently emerged from the bathroom, taking all of forty minutes to get ready." _Looking like a freaking sex god. _She added silently, closing her eyes for a minute and taking a deep breath.

Freddie, assuming she was closing her eyes in irritation, quickly grabbed his keys. "Okay, okay, well I'm ready now. Do you have the address?"

She nodded, holding up the invite.

"Alright, I'll program it into my car. Vamanos, m'lady."

Rolling her eyes, she handed him the invitation, muttering "_Nub," _under her breath.

Twenty minutes and three songs later, they pulled up in front of a house, cars scattering the driveway and curb.

After five minutes of searching, Freddie found a parking space, pulling in and shutting off the ignition. As soon as the car was turned off, Sam jumped out, exclaiming something about smelling buffalo wings, and ran off, heels and all. That's got to be a talent.

Once he reached the house, he became surrounded by groups of nicely dressed drunks, stumbling around, sloppily spilling their drinks on the furniture.

Freddie felt someone bump into him, and he turned to find a brunette girl standing in front of him, holding a red plastic cup.

"Hey, sorry! Didn't see you there." She studied him for a second, then asked, "Do you go to Central? I haven't seen you at any of these parties before. And I would remember you."

He shook his head, "No, I actually came with Sam Puckett. I sort of lost her, have you seen-"

"Sam? You're here with Sam?" She exploded into laughter, causing him to jump in surprise. "Wow, did she score a guy or what?"

"Uh, no, I'm not, like, _with her_. I'm a friend from high school – I'm just visiting. So, have you seen her-"

"That makes more sense. I know Sam, she's in my History class. Never pays attention. It's like she doesn't even want to be there, you know?" At this, she erupted into laughter again, and Freddie just stared at her in exasperation. "My name is Stephanie, by the way. And you are?"

"Freddie!" He whipped his head around, sighing in relief when he saw a mess of blonde and red coming toward him.

Sam, her mouth full of buffalo wing, exclaimed upon arrival, "They have mini pizzas. I swear I'm never leaving this pl- uh, who's this?"

Stephanie rolled her eyes. "Stephanie. From History?"

She stood in thought for a moment, before nodding in understanding. "Oh, Pencil Girl."

"Excuse me?"

"You drop your pencil every single class, and leave it there until that idiot jock in the row beside you picks it up. It's kind of pathetic."

Freddie snorted, despite himself, but Stephanie simply scoffed, offended. "I do not! And anyway, Jeremy and I have become great friends. Not that you would know, considering you don't even take out your earphones long enough to hear anything."

"Ever consider that maybe it's because I _really _don't want to hear about the latest guy you screwed?"

Freddie's jaw dropped, and he quickly grabbed Sam's hand, ready to pull her away, but she just smacked his arm.

"At least I've had relationships!" Stephanie exclaimed loudly, causing a few passerbys to turn and watch, "While you're just sitting there in your sweats and hoodies, not even making eye contact with anyone in the class. Why are you even here, anyway?"

"Oh, Steph, I came to meet your latest target! Who will it be tonight? That guy, behind the bar? Or maybe the nerd by the keg? Or wait, that was last week, huh?" Sam asked rhetorically, looking at her with mock sympathy.

Obviously done arguing with Sam – most likely because she couldn't think of a comeback – she turned to Freddie. "I don't even know why you're friends with her. She's a total freak, everyone thinks so."

"Because she doesn't come to these kinds of parties and drink her life away? Wow, I can't believe I'd want to spend my time with her."

"Don't try to defend me, nub." Sam muttered, but Freddie just ignored her.

"Well, I know I could show you the time of your life." Stephanie stepped up to him, running a hand down his chest, and Sam practically growled beside him.

"Just go find your idiot jock before I knock your teeth out." Sam threatened, and Freddie shook his head.

"Sam, no threats."

"Yeah, Sam, play nicely now." Stephanie mocked, "Actually, you should just leave, before you embarrass yourself any more than you already have."

Simply shaking her head, she looked down at her uneaten mini pizza, and Freddie caught on to what she was thinking. She looked up at him quickly, and he shrugged, nodding, convincing her to reach out and smear the pizza across her face, covering her in tomato sauce and cheese, finishing up by dropping the rest down her excessively displayed cleavage.

Stephanie's mouth turned from a smirk to a look of outrage, letting out a scream that turned everyone's heads.

"Whoops, sorry! I'll lend you one of my freak hoodies." Smirking, Sam turned around and walked out of the room, resulting in applause and cheers from the crowd that had formed. Freddie, grinning, shrugged at Stephanie, in tears over the mess, before running after her.

Finally reaching her, he grabbed her arm, spinning her around.

"Sam! That was genius!"

"Now my pizza is ruined. It's all over her plastic face."

Laughing, Freddie replied, "I'll buy you some later. So, do you want to head out?"

Sam shook her head, defiantly. "I'm not leaving. I honestly could not care less what she said. They have mini pizza and buffalo wings, the music doesn't suck, and everyone here is drunk. I don't think we can find a better place to be."

And that is how they ended up in the center of the dance floor, Sam with her back to him, one hand reaching behind and holding Freddie's head in place by the back of his neck, while the other waved in the air above her head. Freddie's hands were on her hips, their bodies pressed together, basically grinding into each other.

"I'm glad we didn't leave." Freddie told her.

"Well, of course you're glad. If we had left, you wouldn't be dancing with the life of the party."

Chuckling in her ear, he replied, "Have I told you yet how great you look tonight?"

"I don't believe you have. Tell Mama how hot she looks."

"You look hot. Incredibly hot." He said it before he could stop himself, but he shrugged it off. She was in an amazingly good mood considering she was surrounded by people she didn't like, so he thought he could probably test his luck.

"Back at 'cha."

His eyes widened as he quickly looked down at her face, but he found her eyes closed, distracted by the music.

He didn't know what made it happen – the music, the atmosphere, Sam in her gorgeous red dress that made her look so unbelievably hot he couldn't even see straight – but either way, by the end of the night he found himself pressed against the wall of a bedroom, Sam standing in front of him, making out.

Looking back, he guessed it had to happen eventually. All of the pent up sexual tension between them couldn't even be cut with a knife. Maybe an axe. He ran his hands down her back, caught up in the passion of the kiss, his package undoubtedly pressed against Sam's thigh, but she didn't seem to be bothered. She had her hands running through his hair, down his arms, up his chest, giving him chills.

"Whoopsy! 'Scuse me, didn't know this room was taken."

They both jumped apart, like they had been shocked. An obviously drunk couple stumbled in, looking like they didn't even know where they were.

Sam grabbed her bag, shaking her head, "It's okay, you two can have it. We were just leaving."

Shrugging, the couple wasted no time pressing against each other, as Freddie and Sam quickly exited, closing the door behind them. Without even looking back, Sam headed straight for the front door. Sighing, Freddie ran a hand through his hair, which was sticking up from Sam's hands wandering.

This was going to be a long night.

* * *

><p>He slept on the couch that night. Once they got back home, in complete silence, might he add, Sam simply walked to the bathroom, changed, and dropped onto the bed. She didn't say a word, and she laid with her back to him, making him assume he wasn't welcome.<p>

The next morning, Freddie contemplated just leaving, so as to not wake her up have to endure the stony silence yet again; however, as he was packing his bag, he heard a thump from beside him on the couch. Looking up, there was Sam, seemingly being the one to have made the noise, as beside him there were a pile of clothes that he just now remembered had been left in her bedroom. He nodded to her appreciatively, packing them and standing up, his bag over his shoulder. Without a word, Sam followed him out of the house, being already dressed, and rode with him to the airport.

The silence continued throughout the entire car ride, and the walk through the airport, until they reached the security line. He couldn't take the silence anymore – it was deafening.

He turned to her, "Look, before I go, we need to talk about last night."

Sam nodded, slowly. "Yeah, we do."

Taking a deep breath, he opened his mouth, but found himself cut off.

"It was really just the heat of the moment. We were at a party, it was happening all around us. Neither of our faults."

He sat there, stunned. _Heat of the moment? Fault? _"Oh, so it didn't… uh… mean anything?"

"No, don't worry. You're safe."

He wasn't sure what she meant by that, but he didn't really have time to dwell on it, as a security guard called out to him to move toward the x-ray machines.

"Okay, well… I guess I better get going."

She nodded, awkwardly rocking back on her heels. Sighing, he opened his arms, just like the last time, and saw a quick smile cross her facial features – so quick it could have been a trick of the light. She stepped into his embrace.

"I had a really good time with you this weekend." Freddie told her, sincerely.

"Me too."

There was silence for a minute, both of them just enjoying each other's presence, until Sam spoke up.

"You've got a mighty talented pair of lips there, boy."

Chuckling, he sighed, relieved they were able to joke about the awkward situation. "I'm pretty sure yours were better. But don't think I didn't notice the way you were rubbing my arms. Impressed?" He flexed, his arms still around her, and felt her shiver slightly. She stepped away from him a bit.

"Yeah, yeah, so you work out. Don't think _I _didn't notice your little friend poking me. Or you staring at me in that dress. I got it, Mama's good-looking."

"Not my fault you looked fucking gorgeous. All the guys were staring at you. Probably surprised to find you in something other than your 'hoodies and sweatpants'."

She laughed lightly, a hint of sadness in her voice. Upon the second call from the security guard, Sam stepped back, completely parting from his arms. "I better go find a shuttle."

He nodded, adjusting his bag on his shoulder. "Thanks. For letting me stay at your place."

"Guess I owed it to you. Like you said before, I've crashed at yours loads of times throughout the years."

"Well, I'd like to think this was a little better, considering my mom wasn't there breathing down our necks at every move."

Sam cracked a smile, just barely, before starting to step further from him. "Well, see you later Freddie."

He watched as she began to walk away. Something wasn't right – her smile was too forced, her eyes forlorn. She wasn't acting like Sam.

Grabbing her hand just at arms distance, he squeezed it for a minute, causing her to look back at him questionably.

"Hate you." He smirked, and she smiled, her first genuine smile since the… _incident _of last night.

"Hate you too."


	11. Chapter 11

"Hello?"

"Nub."

"Nice to hear from you, too. Are you calling to answer my question?

"Err… kind of." He heard some noise around her, and her shout of "Watch where you're going, asshole!"

"Charming, Sam. Where are you?"

"Do you always wear clothes like that in college?"

Freddie frowned, looking down at his shirt. "What? It's just my yellow- Wait… how did you-"

"Hey stud." He heard from behind him. He jumped.

"Sam!" He stood up and climbed around the couch to reach her. He couldn't stop grinning. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm with the fashion police. I was called about the shade of that sweater."

"Sam." Freddie warned.

"You look like a banana!"

"Sam!"

She rolled her eyes, smirking at him.

"So, are you going to answer my question?"

Sam groaned. "I thought it was implied… but fine. Yes, I missed you."

Freddie's face lit up.

"You stupid nub." She added for good measure.

Freddie continued to grin through her insult. He raised his arms, "Come here, Puckett."

She rolled her eyes and grumbled, but took a half step forward despite herself. Freddie gathered her up and pulled her close.

Her protest was all an act, really. She had been waiting to be in the nub's arm again.

They stood like that for a minute, unmoving, until Sam finally composed herself and stepped out of his embrace.

"Okay, enough of that."

Freddie found her statement ironic, considering she had been holding on tighter than he was.

"So, how did you get here? How long are you staying?" He asked, not even bothering to hide his excitement.

"Woah, chill out, Freddison. I'm only here for the night. Thought I'd stop by on my way."

"Where are you on your way – hey! Where are you going?"

"Your room." She called over her shoulder. "I thought I'd drop off my stuff."

"Woah, woah." He ran in front of her, grabbing her upper arms to still her. "Okay, first off, my room is the other way. Second, who said anything about staying in my room?"

"Uh, I did. Let's go, Fredley."

"I don't think so. My room is barely big enough for me. And what about my roommate? I can't just intrude on him."

"I'm sure he will be fine. He might die of shock just seeing a girl in the room."

"He's brought girls in before."

"Well, then what's the problem? It would _almost _be like you were bringing your own girl in. Now, are we going?"

Freddie sighed, "Okay, I give in. There's a couch in my room; I'll sleep there." He explained as he led her to his room. "Hopefully Frank won't mind." Arriving at the door of his room, he starts to unlock the door.

"You're roommate's name is Frank? What kind of nubbish name is-?" She started to say, but cut off when the door swung open, revealing Frank.

"Uh… Sam, this is Frank. Frank, this is my friend Sam. She came by, _unannounced_, and has decided she is staying here for the night."

Frank nodded slowly. "Hey, Sam. Nice to meet you." He looked her up and down, and Freddie got an uncomfortable feeling in the pit of his stomach.

"Hi, Frank. So, this is where you're staying, huh? At least it's better than your room in Seattle. Where are the sheets with Galaxy-"

"Okay, Sam! That's enough. Did you want to go get something to eat?"

"Umm, do you realize who you're talking to?" Sam rolled her eyes, turning toward the door. Then, suddenly, she stopped, whipping back around. "Oh, would you like to come, Frank?"

Frank nodded, a little too animatedly. "Sure! Of course, only if you don't mind, Freddie?" He asked, as he started to grab his coat and wallet.

"Uh… yeah, I guess." To be honest, he would have much rather it been just him and Sam, but he couldn't refuse without giving a proper reason, and he wasn't entirely sure he had one. He just really didn't like the look in both of their eyes…

* * *

><p>Two and a half hours later, the dorm room opened again, revealing a laughing Sam and Frank, and a grumbling Freddie, walking in after them and closing the door.<p>

"And that waiter! He didn't know what hit him!" Sam exclaimed in between chortles.

Frank dropped down on the couch, and Sam followed suit. "I think the best part was Freddie, standing there, balancing the ketchup bottles!" They were now leaning against each other, their sides stitched in laughter.

Freddie groaned, "It happened a half hour ago, I think it's lost its amusing factor by now." He replied in monotone.

The whole night, Sam and Frank got to know each other while he sat there, like a third wheel. For the most part, they bonded over teasing Freddie. Though, to be fair, Sam did notice Freddie's resentment. She threw him questioning looks all night, and even went as far as to pull him aside and ask what his problem was, but he, as stubborn as he is, just brushed it off rather angrily. She rolled her eyes, mumbled something about how much of a baby he was being, and ignored him the rest of the night. Well, actually, she didn't ignore him. Instead, she went overboard on her insults, laughing it off with Frank.

After another minute, Sam and Frank finally calmed down. Frank turned to Sam, standing up and extending his hand to her. "Would you like to go for a walk?"

Sam smirked, flicking her eyes toward Freddie sulking on the bed, before placing her hand in his. "Sure."

She headed to the door, and Frank turned around, shot a thumbs up at Freddie, and left the room. Freddie just stared at the spot they just vacated, then let out a strangled grunt, angrily flinging a pillow across the room and dropping down on the bed face-first.

How could Sam do this to him? He thought they had had… something… the last time he saw her. They spent every moment together, and it just felt so… right.

But, now she's obviously moved on. To his roommate, for Christ's sake. He shared a bathroom with this guy. He wasn't even really Sam's type, anyway.

Well, okay, mainly he just wasn't like Freddie.

He had the bad-boy reputation. The leather jacket, heavy metal, motorcycle kind of guy.

_Oh, God, what if he takes Sam out on his motorcycle? _

To be perfectly honest, it did sound like something to which Sam would be attracted. It definitely would suit her. But, he always assumed – more like hoped – that Sam was more interested in the safer, maybe _nerdier_, type. She went out with Freddie's friends for the most part in high school. They had all been nerds.

Freddie lied there, contemplating this, when he heard the door open again. He didn't bother to look up, until he heard Frank speak.

"I'm sorry, man, I didn't realize. She's all yours."

"Wh- what?" He asked, quickly standing up.

"I didn't know you two had a thing."

"What are you talking about?" Freddie asked, rubbing his eyes.

Frank sighed, "I started to try to, uh, get a little more out of her, if you know what I mean, but she refused. She told me she was with someone else. I can put two and two together, man. She's out there right now; you should probably go."

He couldn't believe it. "She uhh… she said that?"

"Well, not in so many words, but I got the gist. She's really hard to extract information from, huh?"

"You have no idea." Freddie mumbled, but started to grab his and Sam's coat – who had left it behind. Before he reached the door, he turned to Frank. "Thanks."

"Don't worry about it. I have my eye on this chick from my chemistry class anyway. She rides a Harley."

Freddie laughed, waving his hand behind him as he shut the door. He headed out of his dorm, walking along the path until he spotted her, trying in vain to light a cigarette without a lighter.

"I thought you quit smoking, Sam." Sam looked up, appearing unsurprised by his arrival. She shrugged, giving up on the cigarette and dropping down onto the bench. Freddie sighed, holding out her sweatshirt to her, and she grunted in appreciation, taking it and pulling it on.

"Sam… will you talk to me? No cryptic truths or evading the question, just talk to me. I need help… wrapping my mind around this."

"Around what?" She asked unenthusiastically, her eyes downcast to her hands in her sweatshirt pockets. Freddie groaned.

"Around us."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Sam," He started, running a hand through his hair and sitting next to her. "Please."

"Don't _please _me, Fredducini. All I know is you were a total killjoy tonight."

Freddie opened his mouth in outrage, "Well, what was I supposed to do? You were flirting with my roommate!"

"What of it?"

"You've got to be kidding me, Sam." He retorted, "You know why I was upset."

"Actually," she replied, standing up and brushing herself off, "I don't. You have never told me, nor have you shown me, why you would have any reason to be upset."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"It means you're a fucking hypocrite!"

"How am I a hypocrite?"

"Oh, come on, Fredpus. You get mad at me for "flirting", but you haven't made even one little move!"

"What?" Freddie asked, genuinely confused.

"We spent three days together, Freddie! I know you enjoyed it. Or else why would you have put up with me for that long? But you didn't do _anything_! _I _was the one to drag you to the bed, _I _was the one to initiate the make-out. I wasn't going to just wait for you!"

He shook off his shock, still enraged, "Are you serious, Sam? Ever since that weekend, where I couldn't so much as put my arm around you without you pushing me off, or that night, when you told me it was just a 'heat of the moment', I've been afraid that if I say _anything_, it'll send you away!"

"That's crap and you know it." She responded harshly, "I'm here aren't I? Obviously nothing you did '_sent me away_'."

"That doesn't mean any-"

"You want to have two or three kids." She interrupted, and his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "Favorite food is meatloaf, because it was the one dish you had growing up that wasn't organic. Your favorite color is blue. Your celebrity crush is Keira Knightley. It takes you freaking 90 hours to get ready. You'd love to meet Bill Gates, because he built the Internet or whatever." Freddie laughed slightly at her generalization. "You sleep in a t-shirt and boxers. Pet Peeves are when people drive under the speed limit, saying the one – which I still don't get by the way – when your pen runs out of ink, losing your chapstick. You sleep on the left side of the bed. You don't suck at singing, and your favorite song is Fix You by Coldplay. You're insanely jealous of Javier, and now apparently Frank."

Freddie just stared at her, his eyes wide, and she let out a frustrated groan.

"I know what a freaking MMORPG is, Freddie!" She then smirked, with no hint of humor or teasing. "Massively Multiplayer Online Role Playing Game."

His eyes widened even more, but Sam just shook her head, glaring at him slightly.

"Yeah. I listened."

He knew it was widely inappropriate, but just hearing her say the words made his eyes lust over, because _God_, she just recited the acronym. She never fails to surprise.

Shaking his head, he took a step closer. "Sam, I-"

Sam sighed, "I have a truth for you."

He scoffed, "Come on, Sam. Not right now. We're in the middle of-"

"Where's your dad?"

Freddie froze, staring at her. "What?"

"Where's your dad, Freddie? We've answered all sorts of questions, from shallow to heavy-loaded. But you never answered that one, and I haven't either. I need you to answer, Freddie."

"Th- that's not how the rules work-"

"Screw the rules! This is important."

"What does this have to do with anything?"

"I need to know that you trust me. You need to trust me, so I can let myself trust you back. That's the only way this is going to work."

"Okay." Freddie took a deep breath, "Um… my dad lives in Missouri. My parents divorced when I was six. They, uh, they didn't want to call it divorce though." Freddie laughed, bitterly, "They never said the word. They would say that 'daddy is going away for a little while' But I knew, of course. He tried to be good about regular visits, but as the years went by the visits were less and less frequent, until they just stopped.

"Then, when I was twelve, I, uh, I found out he got remarried. Four years previous. He never told me he was even seeing anyone when he would visit. I got really mad at him after that… I stopped returning his calls. That went on for about… six years, I guess. I just talked to him again, actually, for the first time in a while, about five months ago, right after I got here. I guess I just thought… there's no point in holding a grudge against him. Sure, he doesn't make the best life choices, but he's still my father."

Freddie shook his head, "Okay, there. I told you." He watched as Sam sort of gaped at him. "Um… your turn?"

She composed herself, nodded, and looked down at her hands, beginning to talk, "My dad was a great guy. No one knew he was having any problems. Until he turned up lying on the ground with a gun in his hand."

"Sam…" Freddie started, but cut himself off. Instead, he just sat down beside her, not touching, waiting for her to initiate any contact.

"It came as a huge shock to everyone. He always seemed to be so well-put together. And it just made me think that if he could do it, anyone could."

"How old were you?" He asked softly, sliding his hand into hers. She held onto it, tightly, and continued speaking.

"Nine. I was nine, and that selfish bastard killed himself. I didn't even know what suicide was when I was nine years old!

"What could have been so bad that he had to leave us? I didn't know, so I blamed myself, like every other kid does when something happens with their parents. I guess I still do blame myself…"

She looked up, exhaling, her eyes completely dry. "That's it. So, umm, you were saying something before, right?"

"Sam, you can't blame yourself. I tried to blame myself for my parents separating – it just makes everything worse for everyone. Your mom will worry, you will feel like crap all the time. You have to know that the only thing you did to your dad was kept him alive as long as he was. You couldn't have kept him from doing it, but you postponed it, because he loved you. He loved you, and I know he would be so fucking proud of everything you've done."

Nodding, Sam stared down at her hand – the other still being interlocked with Freddie's.

Freddie waited for Sam to look up again, and he stood in front of her, taking both of her hands in his. "Are you okay, now? Are you ready? Because I'm sorry about before. I do want this, Sam. I want this so badly, I can't think straight."

She laughed quietly, "Man up, Benson." She replied teasingly, but her cracking voice betrayed her, "You act like the girl in this relationship."

Freddie growled at her, hastily pulling her up by the waist, bringing her in and planting his lips on hers. Sam gasped in surprise, but after a moment, began to kiss him back, hungrily. She wrapped her arms around his neck, yanking his head closer to hers to deepen the kiss, causing him to moan into her mouth.

After a couple minutes, they broke apart for lack of breath, leaning their foreheads against one another.

"I think I just experienced every emotion in the dictionary in the last 5 minutes…" Sam whispered, out of breath.

Laughing, he pulled her close, despite her protests, and just held her. He knew that even if she wouldn't say it, she needed it.

Finally, she let out a breath, relaxing in his arms and resting her head on his chest, just below his shoulder. It was such a natural position. He just gathered her up tighter, and after a minute or two, leaned down to whisper in her ear, "So, do you think you could repeat the part about the MMORPG?"

She burst into laughter, "Oh, so that's what got you going, huh?" At his widened eyes and incessant nodding, she rolled her eyes. "Maybe later. Right now, we should probably go back so Frank doesn't think I killed you."

"Oh yeah, what _did _you say to Frank?"

"Well, I guess I had been sending him the wrong vibes, so I just told him I was waiting on someone. I tried to make it obvious – I didn't want to make things weird between you two."

"Doesn't matter. I could have gotten another roommate if I had to. What I can't do is get you out of my fucking head."

"Yeah, well, I tend to charm all of the guys around me." She replied, stepping away from him.

"Hell yeah, you do." Freddie grumbled.

"Aw, is ickle Freddiekins jealous?"

Freddie just rolled his eyes, although it was rather ineffective as it was masked by his giant grin he couldn't get off his face.

Sam walked around him, whispering into his ear, "You won't get out of my mind either."

Freddie smirked, hurrying to catch up to her. When he reached her, she slipped her hand into his without looking over. A chill ran through him.

"So, you never answered my question. Where are you on your way to?"

"Oklahoma."

"Oklahoma?" Freddie asked, his eyes widening. "Why are you going all the way over there?"

"I don't know, needed a change in scenery. Melanie's there, thought I'd crash with her until I figure out what's next."

Freddie nodded slowly, starting to unlock the door. Suddenly, he stopped, turning to face her. "Wait… you said you came here on your way… Massachusetts is nowhere near Oklahoma."

He saw Sam smirk as she moved past him through the doorway.

"Well, I've never been very good with geography."


	12. Epilogue

"So, throughout the evolution of man, there were hundreds of distinct moments…"

Freddie groaned, dropping his head in his hands. After a half hour, he had completely tuned out the professor. He just wanted this class to be over. Then he had the whole weekend free – not that he necessarily had anything planned, but at least he would be out of here. He stared at the clock behind the professor's head, counting the minutes until he could leave.

That was, until he felt his phone buzz in his pocket. Hastily pulling it out, his eyes darted around the room to see if anyone had overheard. Even if technically in college he wouldn't be reprimanded for texting in class, he still felt it was rather disrespectful.

_From: The Demon_

_What do you want the most right now?_

Rolling his eyes, he typed back.

_Can't call you – I'm in class. But honestly, I just want to get out of here._

A minute later, his phone buzzed again.

_From: The Demon_

_Wish granted, Frederella._

Before he had a chance to fully process the message, he was interrupted.

"Excuse me?"

Freddie jumped at the voice, his eyes growing wide. What is she _doing _here?

"I'm looking for Fredward Benson."

His professor squinted at her, "Who?"

Freddie unintentionally hopped up, and his professor nodded offhandedly, waving him away impatiently as he continued his lecture. Freddie quickly gathered his things and hurried out the door.

Well, she did warn him – the rules don't apply to her.

"Sam! What the-"

He was cut off by Sam's lips attacking his. He dropped his bag to the ground and automatically moved his hands to her back. He suddenly felt his own back bump into the wall behind him, and Sam's hands everywhere, her tongue in the midst of a fierce battle with his own.

God, he missed her.

They finally separated, gasping for air, and Freddie stared into Sam's eyes, "What are you doing here?"

She shrugged, her hands continuing to run down his chest, "Had an extra plane ticket."

"Sam." He gave her a look, attempting to coerce her into telling the truth.

"You know what I'm doing here."

"I'd rather you say it. Remember? It's therapeutic."

She rolled her eyes, "I missed you. There."

Grinning, he slowly intertwined his fingers with hers, "See?" He teased, "That wasn't so bad."

She gave him one of her infamous looks, and he held his empty hand up in defense, "Okay, okay, I get it." After a minute, he spoke again. "I'm glad you came, I missed you too. But I wish you would tell me one of these days when you come for a visit!"

"Where's the fun in that?"

"Well, it would give me a chance to plan something, or get cleaned up. I haven't shaved in a week. I'm wearing the same shirt as yesterday – I'm a mess."

Sam lifted her hand to his cheek and stroked downward, "Hmm, I don't really mind the stubble." She said, replacing her finger with her mouth, kissing down his jaw. "And you're such a girl, you look fine. Why do you think you're a mess?"

He leaned back against the wall in exhaustion, pulling her against him. "I had a final today, and I stayed up all last night studying, and all I can think about right now – besides you, of course – is sleep."

She lifted an eyebrow, then shrugged and tugged on his hand, "Alright, well, let's go then."

"Go where?"

"Your dorm. You can catch up on your sleep. I will give you the night off – however, tomorrow I expect full entertainment."

He began to follow her, not putting up much of a fight. "You're amazing, you know that?"

"I get that a lot." She smirked, wrapping an arm around his waist. He threw his arm around her shoulders, and they bumped into each other as they walked.

"So is this another one of your connections?" He asked with a smirk.

"The dean of admissions owed me a favor."

Chuckling, he shook his head briefly, "Of course."

He glanced down at her, wondering how he got so lucky. Sure, she's unpredictable, insane, and rather blunt, but he couldn't imagine his life without her poking fun at him on a daily basis.

Really, he just couldn't imagine his life without _her_.

Crazy perfect demon.


	13. Truth: The Aftermath

The sequel to the story has been posted, you can find it here or on my page:

www .fanfiction s / 8470393 /1 /


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